


Recovery

by mistrali



Series: Variations on a Theme (Loved the Stars Too Fondly) [9]
Category: Emelan - Tamora Pierce
Genre: Gen, Illness, Recovery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-28
Updated: 2020-10-28
Packaged: 2021-03-09 03:06:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 506
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27237760
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mistrali/pseuds/mistrali
Summary: Set post-HitV.A moment at Discipline: Rosethorn, less fragile than she looks; and Sandry, more so.
Relationships: Sandrilene fa Toren & Dedicate Rosethorn
Series: Variations on a Theme (Loved the Stars Too Fondly) [9]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/55095
Comments: 6
Kudos: 12





	Recovery

**Author's Note:**

> Content warning: discussion of recovery from serious illness.

Out of long habit, Rosethorn was awake at four, although Moonstream had said that if she so much as thought about resuming her Earth Temple duties yet, she’d have a bed at Water faster than she could say ‘puddle-minded lackwits’. She glared at the potted plants someone, probably Briar, had placed at her bedside table. It wasn’t their fault they were forced to bloom out of season, poor counterfeit things, but they didn’t hold a candle to outdoor plants, which sprouted, flowered and fruited in the proper cycles.

Lark had fallen asleep in her chair, over the dark green cotton habit she was mending. Stray threads had escaped the bobbin and tangled in Lark’s long, elegant fingers. Rosethorn neatened them with a touch, then crept out of the room, loath to wake her lover from what must be her first sleep in days. She hadn’t missed the new worry lines on Lark’s face, or the state of her work. Normally, thread obeyed Lark without question.

On hearing Rosethorn the dog woke as well, whining, and had to be let out to do his business. To Rosethorn’s amusement, rather like Briar still did on occasion, he wolfed his breakfast so fast she wondered where it all went. She left him in the fenced part of the garden, whuffling at weeds (gods, how the nettles had sprouted!) and startling pigeons into flight.

When she’d returned from the privy and fetched the dog back in, she found a puffy-eyed, yawning Sandry in the kitchen, splashing water on her face. “Good morning,” said the girl, ghost-pale under the steady light that shone from her crystal. Her voice was a croak, and her smile lacked something of its usual sunniness, but her mouth was set in a determined line.

She lit the candle from the hearth and set it on the kitchen table, and then reached for Rosethorn’s favourite cherry-and-apricot tisane. “I’ll make us both tea,” she said, tone a bit too bright and brittle.

As though Rosethorn were born yesterday. _Green Man defend me, it’s far too early in the day for this, this_ coddling, she thought. _Did I ask for help?_ But no matter how Sandry’s kindness galled, the child was ten and overwrought. Snapping at her would only worsen the guilt gnawing at Rosethorn’s gut. Besides, sharp tongues were no use against people like Sandry; they would only turn sweeter and more contrary.

“I’m not - glass,” Rosethorn said at last, trying for gentleness. “Sleep.” She pointed to the black sky and then to Sandry, to make her meaning clear, and mimed slumber. Hesitantly, Sandry handed Rosethorn the filled kettle. “I don’t think I could,” she whispered. Rosethorn raised an eyebrow at her, tapped her head, then pointed to Briar’s room, and upstairs to where Tris and Daja slept.

“I don’t think they’re sleeping, either,” said Sandry ruefully, after a moment’s silence. But her pallor was lessening. Gathering up her embroidery, with a tremulous smile, she dragged her pallet out to Briar’s room and closed the door behind her.


End file.
